


The Shadow That Walks There

by Spitfire007



Series: Shadwell Stairs [1]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spitfire007/pseuds/Spitfire007
Summary: Farrier and Collins had agreed that nothing would stand in their way of creating a future together, not the Labouchere Amendment or the German army.They have always been men who kept their promises no matter the cost.





	1. I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair

 I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair.  
      Along the wharves by the water-house,  
      And through the cavernous slaughter-house,  
I am the shadow that walks there.  
  
Yet I have flesh both firm and cool,  
      And eyes tumultuous as the gems  
      Of moons and lamps in the full Thames  
When dusk sails wavering down the pool.  
  
Shuddering the purple street-arc burns  
      Where I watch always; from the banks  
      Dolorously the shipping clanks  
And after me a strange tide turns.  
  
I walk till the stars of London wane  
      And dawn creeps up the Shadwell Stair.  
      But when the crowing syrens blare  
I with another ghost am lain.

~ by Wilfred Owen

“Mr. Collins!” 

His exhausted body is halfway up the stairs when he hears his name being shouted behind him. His legs come to a stop and he momentarily worries that he will never get them walking again after these last few days of flying. So he turns to see who has called his name, after he had tried very hard to enter the house quietly. He’s greeted by the sight of Rosie, one of the servants at the home where he has been stationed, practically running up the stairs toward him. Her red hair looking far messier than normal as she chases after him. 

“Mr. Collins, I’m sorry to bother you, I know you just got back but…” Her green eyes look around suspiciously making Collins frown slightly. 

“This letter came for you, sir.” Collins notices now that her small hands are clinging to a letter pressed tightly against her chest. 

“Thank you, Rosie. That’s very sweet of you to bring me my post personally.” He reaches out his hand to take the letter but she doesn’t budge. 

They both stare at each other for a few moments before Collins lets out a soft chuckle. “May I have the letter, Rosie?” 

Rosie’s cheeks become red with embarrassment as she finally releases her strong grip on the letter and gives it to him. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just….well…” 

Collins survey’s the letter noticing that it only has his name and address on it. There are no signs of postage or an indication who sent it. He turns the envelope over in his hand to see that it has clearly been open. 

“I didn’t open it. Honest, sir. It arrived like that. I swear, Mr. Collins.” Rosie whispers instantly, her hand almost reaching out to touch the arm of Collins’ uniform. 

“The Royal Air Force checks all of our mail, Rosie. It’s alright.” Collins reassures her as he nods his thanks. He turns to head back upstairs and to his room, but she grabs him. Her grip almost desperate.

“Mr. Collins, it’s from  _ him _ .” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it takes all the breath out of him. 

Collins pales visibly as he pulls the letter out of its envelope. It is only a single page but it feels like a novel in his hands. His eyes scan to the bottom of the page while a lump makes itself known in his throat. 

_ Until we see each other again,  _

_ Farrier _

Collins has to reach out toward the wooden stairwell railing to steady himself. His breath isn’t even anymore and he feels like he may faint until a hand touches his arm again. 

“I’ll bring you a cup of tea to your room, Mr. Collins.” Rosie says softly pulling him out of his swan dive. 

He can only nod as he pulls the letter closer to himself. He takes several strides up the stairs before turning around. “Oh, Rosie ...thank you.” 

Rosie only nods quickly before going back down the stairs.

Finally, Collins makes it to his room, for once not locking the door behind him since he knew Rosie would be in shortly with his tea. 

He looks around the room for a place to read the letter and then gives in to laying down on his bed with his boots still on. His grandmother would have an absolute fit if she knew. 

_ Leslie,  _

Collins’ first name hits him like a punch to the gut and he has to move off his bed into the small desk and chair next to the window. 

_ Leslie,  _

_ I hope this letter finds you well and still flying.  _

_ I had hoped to receive a letter from you by now but the post can be slow and you may be otherwise engaged.  _

_ I do hope you are well.  _

_ Write to me when you can.  _

_ The others are beginning to feel sorry for me because I’m the only one who hasn’t received any letters from home. I’d like to make that stop quickly. Do me the favor, yeah?  _

_ Until we see each other again,  _

_ Farrier _

Collins rereads the letter several more times before he begins to process the words. He notices that something has been marked out at the top with a censor pen. He holds the letter up to the light and tries to read what was underneath it. Unfortunately, that trick had already been thought of by the British censors so he knew it wasn’t any use. 

It was also more than likely why the letter was delivered with a plain envelope. That way Collins wouldn’t know where it was from. He had heard about that from the other pilots. If they knew where a fellow squadmate had went down, they would try to fly there and rescue him. 

The thought had crossed Collins mind several times. He had even dreamed about swooping in and saving Farrier’s life. He had saved Collins’ life a few times, it would only be fair to return the favor. The fact that Collins was madly in love with Farrier also helped push on the fantasy.

As he read the letter again, a nauseous ball started forming in his stomach. Farrier would know that Collins had no way of knowing where to send a letter. How could he? He didn’t know what prisoner of war camp he had been sent to. So why did Farrier expect a letter by now?

Unless Farrier had sent several letters already. 

But that didn’t make sense, because wouldn’t Collins have got them by now?

Then it clicked. The Royal Air Force has Collins’ other letters. He didn’t know why they kept those but not this one. Was it the content? Had Farrier written something that had exposed their relationship? He wouldn’t do that to Collins. That would me jail or maybe something even worse. He would definitely be discharged by now if the military knew. 

No, they had his letters for some other reason. He had to find out why they were keeping them and just how many they were in possession of. 

The shock of it all causes Collins to slam his fist down onto the table. The sound of porcelain clinking against each other causes him to blink. Rosie must have already slipped in and out of his room without him even realizing it. He looks away from the brown liquid to see that a few drops have fallen on the letter. 

“No, no, no.” His words are far too desperate when they escape his mouth as he tries to thumb away the wet droplets from the letter. It stains instantly, his name is practically smudged out and he has to close his eyes to put his emotions in check. 

After a few deep breaths, he grabs the tea, taking several long drinks before setting the empty cup back down. Rosie had went to all the trouble of making it for him, he couldn’t just waste it. He folds the letter back into the envelope and tucks it into the book he is currently reading. He stares at it poking out of the book’s pages for a few moments before nearly running down the stairs. He’s out the door before anyone says a word.

*~*~*~*

There are ten letters laid out in front of Collins. They are bruised by black censorship marks and dirty thumbprints. He holds them gently in his hands as he reads over each one. 

_ Leslie,  _

_ I have arrived in [black mark] and have found it acceptable. It’s much better than those tin cans they called Nissen huts that we have been sleeping in lately. Although, I don’t get to hear the noise of the engines warming up every morning and that is a shame.  _

Collins looks up at the Group Captain who won’t meet his eyes. “And I was never going to get these?”

“Collins, you understand how dire of a situation we are in,” the Group Captain starts but knows it is falling on deaf ears. “They contain codes, he and the rest of his camp have been sending us codes in their letters. You know that’s what they are ordered to do.” 

“But these have been censored, why couldn’t I have them after you censored them?” Collins asks. 

“Because they weren’t censored until yesterday when you came in and demanded to see the other letters. We never planned on you knowing. Given your and Farrier’s ….. attachment.” 

Collins head snaps up to see that the Group Captain is now definitely staring at the floor. “I’m not going on a suicide mission to save him in France, sir.” 

The Group Captain is quiet for a few moments before sighing. “He’s not in France.” 

Collins eyes widen slightly. “Where is he?” 

“Listen, Collins. You are one of my best pilots. Farrier was as well. It’s why I didn’t turn you both in when I learned about…” 

“Where is he?” Collins interrupts. 

“Germany,” the Group Leader sighs.

Collins doesn’t say anything only goes back to reading the letters, trying to memorize them in case they won’t let him have them. Farrier talks about different things in them, vegetable patches, card games, and several other mundane things that are clearly code words due to the numbers written next to certain words. With so many code words, it was almost a sure thing that he wouldn’t be able to keep them. 

“You can have the last one,” the Group Captain says as if reading Collins’ mind. Collins pulls it out from the bottom of the pile. 

“This is to my grandmother,” Collins says but the Group Captain is already walking out of the room.

“Just leave the rest on the table when you are done.” He says before shutting the door behind him.

Collins takes a deep breath before reading it. 

_ Grandma Gertrude,  _

_ I hope this letter doesn’t cause you any alarm, I can only imagine what it would be like to receive a letter from [black mark] in a time of war. Please know I am only writing you this because I am worried about your grandson, Leslie.  _

_ It has been nearly three months since I have been captured and I have sent him a letter a week with no reply. I know that there has been several air battles in Britain because I am seeing more RAF pilots being admitted to the camp each week, however I know he must have some downtime to write. _

_ I only want to make sure that he is in good health. When I ask the other pilots about him, they either don’t know him or have only heard of him. Apparently, he has had a few legendary dog fights since I have been gone. That makes me proud even though I know I shouldn’t be. I always knew he’d be a better pilot than me. _

_ I hope all is well with you and your husband as well. It was a little cold here last week and I couldn’t help but fondly remember spending Christmas with your family. I hope that I can spend Christmas with you again this year.  _

_ Please take care and do let me know about how Leslie is.  _

_ Wishing you all the best,  _

_ David Farrier _

_ P.S. I know the German on the front might be difficult to understand, so just take your letter and mine to the post office and it will find me. _

Collins folds the last letter up carefully before tucking it into an inside pocket of his uniform’s jacket. He’s tempted to take all the other letters but he leaves them on the table as he walks out the door. The Group Captain is leaning against the wall as he comes out. 

“I want to send him a letter,” Collins states. 

The Group Captain sighs deeply. “You know that will never get approved. Only civilians can write letters. They are too afraid military personnel will provide the enemy with information.” 

“He’s going to do something stupid if he doesn’t find out I’m okay. His letters are getting desperate.”

“It will never happen.” 

“He’s already stopped sending coded letters. If I can get a letter to him, I am sure he will start again since he was sending them to me in the first place. You know he doesn’t have any other family, who else is he going to write to?” Collins asks, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest.

“Fine, when you write the letter, just give it to me and I will try to get it through.” The Group Captain sighs. 

Collins walks over to the secretary’s desk and takes a piece of paper and a pen. “Thanks.” 

She smiles at him as he starts to write his letter.

_ Farrier,  _

_ I am sorry I couldn’t write to you sooner.  _

_ Please know that I am well and still flying.  _

_ Take care of yourself and don’t do anything that could get yourself hurt.  _

Collins pulls back to contemplate how to sign it.

_ Until we see each other again,  _

_ Leslie _

He takes the letter back to the Group Captain. “I’d like it mailed today if you could, sir.” 

With that, Collins is heading back out to get ready for his shift on fighter duty. 

*~*~*~*

“Mr. Collins!” 

Rosie is through the door and outside before Collins can even try to slip inside without anyone noticing. 

“Hello, Rosie. It’s good to see you again,” Collins yawns, trying to sidestep her so he can get inside the house and sleep for the next few days. 

“Sir, I received a letter yesterday. I was so surprised, I never get any letters, you know?” 

“Mmmhmm.” Collins nods, finally moving around the small redhead and toward the stairs. “That’s great, love.” 

“No, you don’t understand, Mr. Collins. The letter wasn’t for me.” Rosie says quickly, her tongue nearly tripping on the words. 

Collins tries to give her an interested smile. She has always been nice to him and she has quietly held onto the fact that she caught him and Farrier several times in several places of this house. But his body isn’t even running anymore, it just wants his bed and several blissful hours of sleep. 

“Well, there was a letter for me but inside it--” Rosie starts, following close behind him up the stairs. 

Collins turns around when he gets to the top of the stairs. “Rosie. I’m very excited for you, honestly and I’d love to discuss it with you but I’m knackered. As soon as I get a wee bit of rest, we can talk about about it. I am off all week.” 

Rosie takes in the dark circles under his blue eyes and the slightly strained look on his face. His blonde hair is even slightly out of place. She follows him into the room. “Of course, Mr. Collins. I’ll just lay the letter on your table and then you can read it when you wake up.”

Collins doesn’t say anything as he has crumbled into his bed having only taken off his boots and is fast asleep. Rosie tries not to stare at him as she lays the envelope on the small table next to his bed. She thinks on top of his new book might be the perfect spot.

She hopes Mr. Collins can tell her what the German words on the envelope mean and why there are a few black marks on her letter.

Either way, she really hopes that he enjoys the letter from Mr. Farrier because it really sounded nice to her. She grabs the blanket folded up at the end of Mr. Collin’s bed and puts it over him like she had seen Mr. Farrier do at night on numerous occasions. 

“Rosie!” 

Her name being called causes her to slip out of Mr. Collins’ room as quietly as possible, locking the behind her so no one disturbs the man’s rest. He deserved some peace and quiet if only for a few hours. 

  
  



	2. Along the wharves by the water-house

Collins wasn’t sure that he was ever going to get use to the brutal schedule of being an Royal Air Force Officer in a Fighter Squadron. Sure, they were allowed to leave the airfield when they weren’t on call. Some men even got to sleep in their own beds. This fact usually was spit back into their faces by privates in the army who hadn’t seen home for months.

However, when Collins was on duty, it was non-stop. He slept in his uniform on a tiny, uncomfortable cot in an uninsulated metal hut that rattled as the planes took off over it. On the other hand, he thought he preferred staying on the airfield, talking to his squad-mates until one of them shows back up surrounded by black smoke and spitting up blood. Sometimes the noise becomes deafening and he can’t hear himself think, let alone scream for help.

However, the house he is stationed in is usually far too quiet. The other pilots stationed there are usually asleep or in the pub down the street. Collins seems to be the only one who really stays. He usually spends his time in his room reading or in the parlor next to the large bay window. On the days where the silence begins to whistle like an incoming Stuka, he goes to find Rosie. Her bright personality and never ending optimism helps him bury his pessimistic tendencies.

The only real problem with Rosie is that --

“Mr. Collins!” Rosie’s voice and quick little knock on his bedroom door causes him to sigh.

The problem with Rosie is that she didn’t really seem to know when he wanted privacy. Farrier had chided him for ‘showing the poor girl too much attention’. _Servants aren’t for everyday conversation, Leslie._ Collins had ignored him, as usual. Farrier encouraged her the same, if not more than Collins did anyway.

Collins moved from where he had been staring up at the ceiling from his bed. He wasn’t sure how long he had been awake but he hadn’t planned on leaving his room for several hours. Of course, Rosie wasn’t privy to those plans so he forgave her intrusion.

He unlocked the door, leaning against the door frame with far more casual elegance than should be allowed of a man that had slept for nearly a day and a half after getting a confirmed enemy kill.

“Mr. Collins, Mr. Williams said that your light was on when he walked by so I came to talk to you about the letter.” Rosie says, her eyes flickering between Collins’ face and the uniform he clearly slept in.

“Of course,” Collins breathes, letting out a soft smile as he moves away from the door and walking into his room. He pulls a chair out for her and then takes the one across from it. “I’m guessing your letter is from ...Freddie? Right, the footman down the road? What does he had to say this time?”

Rosie stares at him and her eyes start welling up with tears. Collins blinks, in complete disarray from her sudden tears.

“What’s wrong, Rosie? If that arsehole has done you wrong, you let me know his address and I will have a talk with him.” Collins offers, reaching out to take her hand but she shakes her head fiercely.

“Sir, you didn’t read the letter?” Rosie asks then gets up when Collins’ face wrinkles from confusion. She walks over to his nightstand and picks the letter that she had brought him two days before. She hands it to Collins silently and then simply walks out.

Collins is left absolutely dumbstruck over Rosie’s sudden burst of emotions and then her abrupt exit. He feels like he must have lost his hearing halfway through their conversation or simply blacked out.  

Frowning, he looks down at the letter in his hand. The edges of it are covered in jagged tears as if they were ripped out of a book. The words are slightly blurry but still readable.

_Leslie,_

_I realized that the military may be keeping my letters so I remembered this little trick that I showed Rosie when she started writing Frederick at Stonebriar Manor. Hopefully, it still works. If it does, she can show you how to do the same._

_You consume my thoughts, Leslie, but I am sure you are very aware of that. I find myself staring up at the clouds far too often thinking that you are up there somewhere._

_I’ve heard that you have five enemy confirmed shot down. You are tied with me now. I told your Nan how I always knew you were a better pilot than me. I guess there is something to say about proper discipline and all of that._

_The Red Cross is providing us with paper for letters, fags to smoke, extra rations, and decks of cards. I’m sure things are better and worse at other places but I can only think about how restless I am._

_How absolutely desperate I am_

 

Collins flips the letter over as fast as he can with shaking hands.

 

_for you._

_I love you. I know you know that. I am also aware of how much you are in love with me but it feels good to see it in writing. You should try it sometime._

_I am honestly finding myself at a loss for words. Well, that’s not exactly true. If my pride would let me fill in every line of this letter with how perfect I find you and how utterly in love with you I am, I would._

_But you know my pride. It takes a lot to bring me to my knees. Though you always seem to make that happen so prepare for my next letter to look exactly as I just described._

_I love you and I will think of you every minute of every day._

_Until we see each other again,_

_David_

_P.S. Also, you should know that burning her caused me more pain that I have ever felt before. I don’t think I will ever recover._

 

Collins feels the tears falling very slowly down his face. He bites down hard on his lip to stop the sob he can feel crawling its way up his throat.

Of course, the arsehole would end it talking about his bloody Spitfire. He had heard that she wasn’t recovered but it never occurred him that Farrier had been the one to destroy her.

A ping of jealousy makes a brief and ridiculous appearance before he regains his composure again. He wasn’t about to start crying again because a small part of him believes that Farrier will never love anyone as much as he loved that fucking plane.

He folds up the letter, sticking it in his book with the other one. He walks into the small bathroom and prepares himself to face the day. He’s not sure if it is with a heavy or light heart.

*~*~*~*

“And he taught you this?” Collins asks, making sure his letter is sealed tightly in between the other pieces of paper with Rosie’s letter on top.

Rosie hands him the books so he can press the letters completely flat between them. “He said he learned it at school.”

“No doubt trying to impress some posh snot with more money than brains.” Collins grumbles and tries not to notice Rosie’s shocked gasp.

“He said you didn’t like his schoolmates because your grandparents couldn’t afford to send you to one like it.” Rosie whispers softly as if worried it will insult him.

Collins lets out a breath of a laugh. “Why are we going to all this trouble again, Rosie? To send a hidden letter to a man who thinks so poorly of me and my upbringing.”

Rosie looks offended on Farrier's behalf and shakes her head. “Oh no, Mr. Collins. He wouldn’t have sent you such a romantic letter and risked getting in trouble with the Germans and the Air Force if he didn’t care so much about you.”

“I know, dear. I was only joking.” Collins chuckles. He wants to say something about Rosie always reading his letters but doesn’t have the heart to. It would probably be ungrateful for all that she’s done for him...for them.

“I wish Frederick would write to me like that,” She pouts quietly.

Collins watches her face with light amusement but he knows that if he didn’t have Rosie here, he wouldn’t have anyone that knew and approved of their relationship around the Duxfold Airfield area.

“Maybe he will. If not, you should find someone who does.” Collins offers.

Rosie blushes slightly and then reaches out to pat at Collins’ hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Collins as soon as it dries, I will take it down to the post. Mr. Farrier will have your letter soon enough!”

Collins nods, giving her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Rosie.”

*~*~*~*

 

“No one warmed me,” Pilot Officer Taylor nearly whines, the open collar of his shirt exposing the red, irritated skin from his tight necktie causing his shirt to chafe against his skin from turning his head so much in the cockpit.

“I had someone warn me my first time and I still ended up like that,” Collins offers digging through the pockets of his uniform until he finds the small tub of petroleum jelly he carries for these types of situations. He throws it onto Taylor’s bunk opposite of his own.

Taylor looks around to make sure that they are alone in the makeshift metal hut where they are waiting for the their next flight before whispering. “So it happens to everyone?”

Collins nods, settling down on the small cot. He had been in the middle of his new book when Taylor had walked in saying that the others had told him to come to Collins for something that would help his neck.

He goes back to his book and is several pages in before he notices that Taylor is staring at him. Collins’ eyes cut to Taylor’s face who seems as if he wants to say something.

“Can I ask you a question?” Taylor finally says. It makes the hair on the back of Collins’ neck stand on end. He can already feel the bile beginning to bubble in his stomach. He knows that there should be no way for Taylor to know that he’s a homosexual but it’s a fear that is always under the surface of his skin.

“Sure,” Collins isn’t surprise that his voice sounds so even. He’s always been fairly good at keeping his emotions in control in front of strangers.

“Some of the fellas...they said that you….Well, that your squad-mate Farrier.” Taylor seems to be unable to find the words and Collins hopes he doesn’t. If he still believed in God, he’d be praying right now. But he sits there, his body looking relaxed, but his spine tense from the coming onslaught that he has experienced before. His fingers tight on the book in his hand, ready to hurl it at Taylor’s head before he gets up to decks him with a well-timed punch. Collins knew how to fight, he had only lost a fight once and it was the first one.

“Is it true that Farrier took down a Stuka without any fuel? He just ….glided.” Taylor makes a gliding motion with his hands through the air.

Collins feels his body relax as a small smile crosses his face. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Sounds like one hell of a pilot.”

Collins nods. “His dad was one of the best pilots during the Great War so it only seemed fair that he would be as well. Least that's what Farrier always claimed.”

“That explains it.” Taylor says, then throws the small tub of petroleum jelly back to Collins. “Thanks for that.”

“Anytime.” Collins watches Taylor leave before closing his eyes to breathe deeply through his nose. He wants to get his heart rate to go back to normal. It is still stuttering uncomfortably so he reaches into the small drawer in the table next to him to grab the pack of cigarettes that Farrier always keeps there.

His hands comes up empty and he curses himself for forgetting that there would be no reason for them to be there. His Grandma would have a fit if he started smoking again. So instead he settles for trying to find a memory of Farrier to settle on.  

*~*~*~*

_“Collins,” the voice calling his name sounds like the words have to struggle past two stones inside his throat before they can be released and Collins knows who it is instantly. “It is Collins, isn’t it?”_

_Farrier is lazily trotting up to him, coming to a stop just inside Collins’ personal space. He fights the urge to instantly take a step back. “Yes, sir.”_

_The look of disgust on Farrier’s face would have normally been amusing to Collins if he wasn’t about to strap in for his first real flight into war._

_“The name’s David. Farrier if you insist on being so formal.” Farrier says, his eyes trailing down Collins’ immaculate uniform._

_“Farrier. Understood, sir.” Collins replies and after a few beats Farrier lets out a small laugh. He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders which causes the sheepskin jacket to bulge. Farrier’s white sweater shines brightly in the morning sun making Collins squint slightly._

_“Listen, I just wanted to give a bit of advice for your first time,” Farrier says, still standing far too close for Collins’ comfort. He feels as if he can feel the other pilot’s warm breath against his lips._

_It is enough to make Collins’ bravado bubble up without his permission. “And I assume you give advice to every new pilot, Farrier?”_

_Farrier’s head tilts slightly at Collins’ tone before a slight smirk paints his lips. “No, actually, I don’t.”_

_“Well, sir. I hope you don’t mind me saying that I appreciate the offer but I’ve got enough on my mind currently so...what are you doing?!”_

_Farrier’s hands had found themselves onto Collins’ body in the middle of his sentence. His thick fingers wrap around Collins’ necktie with far too much intimacy. “Your neck is going to be moving in every direction so it’s best if your tie isn’t too tight. It will chafe otherwise.”_

_Collins feels the necktie give way from Farrier’s fingers and fights the urge to swallow. The other pilot finally pulls back and steps out of Collins’ personal space with a satisfied look on his face. “That should do you.”_

_“This isn’t regulation, sir.” Collins manages to offer despite the deafening sound of blood pounding in his ears._

_“You don’t have to follow every rule, you know. The best pilots don’t.” Farrier says giving Collins an over exaggerated shrug. His flight helmet waving dramatically in his hand as he walks backward toward his plane, giving Collins one of the biggest grins he has ever seen._

_Collins tries not to think of the countless stories that he has heard about Farrier as he watches him walk away. That he should be Group Captain by now but he’s been busted down from several promotions due to insubordination. How Farrier is constantly out of uniform regulation and clearly doesn’t know how to respect someone’s boundaries. Collins had told everyone that he wanted to make his own impressions of the man._

_Well, that certainly was something for the first time they had even had a conversation._

_“Good luck out there today, Farrier.” Collins finally says because Farrier is still walking backwards just staring at him as if expecting him to say something else._

_“You’ll have my back, Collins. I’ve nothing to worry about.” Farrier calls before finally turning around and heading to his Spitfire, his hand caressed the wing a little too intimately for Collins’ taste._

_Collins watches him for a few more seconds before reaching up to tighten his tie. Surely, command would have informed him if it was really a problem._

 


	3. And through the cavernous slaughter-house

“Another letter from your sweet Rosie,” Wing Commander Higgins smirks, nodding toward the letter on top of Farrier’s Red Cross parcel. “Glad to see the lass got some sense into her and started writing you.” 

Farrier nods, making his way through the other British prisoners as they wait for their parcels and letters from home. They are already trying to trade each other biscuits, tobacco, and chocolate but Farrier isn’t too worried about that currently. He has other things on his mind as he tucks the package into the crook of his arm and heads toward the wooden barracks, which have been his home for the last few months. He spies the guard in front of the door just like he always is when they get their parcels. Apparently, they weren't allowed to go in the barracks after receiving their packages because they might be trying to hoard something that they received. Just another way for the enemy to control every little thing in their lives. They would be searched before being allowed back into their barracks tonight so there wasn't really much of a point.

“Package outside,” the  _ Unteroffizier _ says, almost bored. Farrier stares at him for a few moments before shrugging.

“Never hurts to try,” Farrier calls over his shoulder, before making his way to his usual spot to read his letter. It’s located behind the dog kennels, directly under the guard tower. The guards trust that the dogs will alert them to any sign of him trying to escape or just generally trying to sabotage anything. 

Farrier takes a seat on the wooden bench haphazardly nailed against another barrack’s outside wall. He places the parcel next to him before opening up the letter. 

Rosie’s letter is full of local gossip and the dismal trajectory of her relationship with Frederick. He will have to tell her that she can do far better than dear Freddy because if she hasn’t gotten rid of him by the time Farrier returns, he will get rid of the footman himself. He tries not to count the many exclamation points at the end of her sentences but finds himself amused by the large number nevertheless. 

He looks up to see if he can spot anyone staring at him before he starts tearing lightly at the edge of the letter. He tucks the discarded paper in his pocket then he sees the soft edge of Collins’ letter tucked between Rosie’s. He looks up again before bringing it out into the light. The paper seems to be much brighter than Rosie’s or Farrier just thinks that it looks that way. Some sort of ridiculous romantic notion that his mind has decided on. 

He brings the letter to his nose, closing his eyes and hoping that the scent of Collins’ aftershave still lingers in its particles. Sadly, it doesn’t seem like it holds anything of Collins’ scent or warmth. He momentarily contemplates asking Collins to pour a bit on his next letter or rub it against the back of his neck where the scene always seems to linger the longest. 

Unfortunately, Rosie’s letters smelling faintly like aftershave might not make any sense and could put an end to this entire situation so Farrier abandons the hope quickly. 

_ Farrier,  _

_ I am writing this on my way home. They have rotated me out for six months or so. I will be an instructor for an operational training unit until I am back flying again. I will be stationed in Lossiemouth. Nan has already decided that I must visit once a week. You know she isn’t someone to be denied so hopefully I can send you letters from there. Otherwise, I will just have to mail them to Rosie and then she to you.  _

_ I wish it wasn’t so complicated.  _

_ I also wish you were home. I’d like to say that I feel you would be safer here because I can make sure you aren’t doing anything to get yourself killed but...you were with me when you made that ridiculous decision over Dunkirk. _

_ I’m finding it difficult to write you without exposing too many of my fears and emotions. I will be strong for you. Know that I believe I will see you again, but _

 

Farrier frowns at the words that have been erased and wishes Collins had left them. But that was Collins, always trying to shove his emotions deep down where he thinks that Farrier can never recover them. 

 

_ Is there anything I can send you? When I spoke to one of the women working at the Red Cross station, she said that you can receive packages from loved ones. Is that true? You know I’m a terrible cook so I don’t think I can provide you with anything like that. It takes a long time for our letters to reach each other so wouldn’t the food be ruined by then? That seems impractical.  _

_ I have been reading a lot so maybe a book? Then we could write each other about it. I’d enjoy that.  _

_ I miss you.  _

_ Until we see each other again,  _

_ Leslie _

A throat clears above him and Farrier kicks himself for not remaining more vigilant. However, his eyes catch the dirty, brown boots and realizes that it isn’t one of the guards. He folds the letter carefully before putting it back in his pocket with Rosie’s. 

“Sorry to interrupt you, sir.” the young pilot says quietly. He had just arrived a few days ago and Farrier hadn’t caught his name yet. 

“Hmm?” Farrier asks, leaning back against the wall, lacing his fingers behind his neck and then stretching his legs out. He looks the picture of relaxation. 

“Well, you see, sir. I wanted to know if you wanted to trade. I saw that you haven’t opened it yet and you see, sir, I am rather fond of the chocolate, it reminds me of home. But most of the officers said that I …” 

“Sardines.” 

The pilot blinks quickly. “I’m sorry, sir?” 

“Sardines for your chocolate.” Farrier replies, opening the parcel that is now in his lap. He pulls out the chocolate bar and hands it out. 

The young pilot looks absolutely shocked. “Honestly, sir? I mean, of course, sir. Here.” 

Farrier watches as the pilot digs through his box and then pulls out the can of sardines before handing it to Farrier. The young pilot takes the chocolate bar hesitantly as if Farrier is going to suddenly come back to his wits. Who trades chocolate for sardines!?

Farrier simply takes the tin from him and puts it back into the parcel. “Much obliged.”

The young pilot stands there for a few moments before sitting down next to Farrier. “Do you not like chocolate, sir?” 

“My name’s Farrier and to the contrary, I do enjoy chocolate.” He says, watching the three dogs pace in their kennel. 

The pilot looks to where Farrier’s gaze is. “Wing Commander says they are for sniffling tunnels.”

“Among other things.” Farrier frowns, before looking back at the pilot. He raises an eyebrow. “I seemed to have missed your name.” 

“Oh! Haskins, sir. James Haskins.” He puts out his hand at an awkward angle.

“Pleasure, Jimmy.” Farrier grins slightly, taking his hand in a firm handshake. 

“My girl said that she would write me as well,” Jimmy says hoping to keep the conversation afloat. 

“I’m sure she will, Jim. You just have to be patient. That’s the trick in here.” Farrier explains, going back to leaning against the wall. He closes his eyes as the sunlight filters in through the high trees surrounding the camp. 

“Being patient, sir?” 

“That and hope. You need both. You need to hope that a letter with come. It will give you something to focus your mind on.” 

Jimmy stands up as if he’s had a eureka moment. “I will, sir!” 

With that, he’s gone. Farrier chuckles quietly to himself, opening his parcel again to remove the sardine tins. He opens them both, standing up he walks over toward the kennels. The dogs notice his movement instantly, their ears flattening quickly. 

“Now, girls,” Farrier says softly before looking around. He turns, his back against the kennel as he presses an open can between the links of fence. He does the same with the next dog. He hasn’t gained enough trust with the other to not have his fingers ripped off through the fence so he waits, planning on getting another can of sardines later near nightfall and dumping the contents in its bowl.

The second he had got here after being marched through some of France and interrogated at the processing camp, he started trying to get on more friendly terms with the dogs. All Royal Air Force officers were given strict orders to disrupt and disturb any prisoner of war camp that they were sent to. The Wing Commander was planning on an escape tunnel and Farrier had volunteered to work with the guard dogs to aid in the effort. 

So far he was fairly proud of his progress and it kept him occupied until a new letter from Collins’ arrived. After all, the only reason he volunteered to help with the escape plan is to get back to Collins as quickly as possible. Collins was all he thought about day and night. But there were still some things that reminded him of Collins that even he couldn't bare right now. One of them was chocolate. 

*~*~*~*

“Honestly, sir-- Farrier. I’m fine.” Collins protests trying to get out of the bed that Farrier all but threw him into. 

Farrier merely puts his arm out as Collins pushes weakly against it with his chest. It only takes a few second before he flops back against his pillow covered in sweat. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“It’s called exhaustion,” Farrier says making himself at home in Collin’s room. He opens Collins’ closet and begins rummaging through it. “You need to focus a little more on your body. I know that you feel like you can’t always do that but you must. Otherwise….” 

Farrier expects to hear Collins protest but he’s met with absolute silence. The sight of Collins fast asleep would normally be such a lovely image but the sweat that is now pooling on his brow is a cause for concern. 

“Rosie!” Farrier yells as he begins undoing Collins’ uniform. He pushes back the blue uniform to find Collins’ white undershirt soaked through with sweat. “Fuck...ROSIE!”

“I’m here, Mr. Farrier!” Rosie says quickly and then blushes brightly when she sees Collins’ in a state of undress. It was probably the first time she had even seen him in any state other than a perfect grooming standard. 

“Rosie, I need water. Lots of it. Quickly.” Farrier says, his voice trying to be firm and gentle but his words are too short from the panic in his throat. 

“Yes, sir!” She says taking off. Farrier goes back to the task at hand, pulling Collins’ limp body up by the wrist and wiggling him out of his uniform and undershirt. He lays him down gently, touching his forehead and frowning at how warm it is. He curses under his breath before pulling his boots off, Farrier stares up at Collins’ pants. He knows Collins is already going to be mortified when he finds out Farrier peeled him out of his uniform. He might not forgive him if he takes his pants off too. 

Collins begins to tremble ever so slightly and Farrier moves. His fingers undoing the buttons of his uniform’s slacks with experienced ease. Farrier only wishes it was these specific pants that he had so much experience taking off. He pulls Collins out of them with a little effort before scooping him up, one arm under his knees and one cradling his neck. Collins doesn’t even struggle like he had done earlier when Farrier had thrown him over his shoulder after nearly 48 hours of constant alert and flights. In fact, Collins hands are terrifyingly limp at his sides. Farrier carriers him into the washroom. He lays Collins in the tub just as Rosie practically splashes in, a large pail of water in her hands. She drops it next to Farrier, getting his jacket slightly wet but he was in the process of taking it off anyway. 

Farrier turns the taps on slightly, letting the water flow into the tub. “Did you bring a glass?” 

Rosie doesn’t even say anything, only runs back down the stairs. Farrier sighs cupping his hands under the faucet and then letting it go over Collins’ head. Collins twitches but doesn’t wake. Farrier turns on a steadier stream, splashing it gently over Collin’s hot skin. He pulls Collins’ head toward his shoulder as he cradles him carefully in the tub. His hands brush slightly over Collins’ soft skin and he tries not to think about it. 

But he should touch it. Just to see if it is cooling down. His fingers pressing into the skin just above his navel, checking for any change in the heat that he felt their earlier. 

“Mr. Farrier!” 

Farrier nearly jumps out of his skin, until he sees Rosie standing there with a drinking glass. “For christ’s sake.” 

He takes the glass from her, dipping it into the water and then tipping Collins’ head back slightly. He holds his neck squarely between the fingers of his hands as he tips the glass between Collins’ lips. 

“Come on, Collins.” Farrier breathes but the water only comes back into the glass, not a drop swallowed. 

Pulling back, Farrier takes a deep breathe and then throws the entire contents of the glass into Collins’ face. He sputters weakly, his eyes opening with shock. 

“Sorry, mate, but I need you to drink this.” Farrier says and before Collins can say anything he is swallowing a mouthful of water. 

He chokes on it, gasping for air and a hand hold. His fingers come to rest on the edge of the tub and he squeezes so tight his fingers turn white. “What’s happening?” 

Farrier would normally tease him about how thick Collins’ accent gets when he’s tired or nervous but he’s honestly just happy to hear him speaking again. “I need you to drink all of this.”

Collins’ eyes flutter close and his body goes lax again. Farrier shakes him harshly. “What?!”

Farrier forces more water down Collins’ throat but Collins practically coughs it all back out. Farrier sighs, pulling off his boots before getting into the tub as well. He pushes Collins up until he is sitting behind and then pulls him back against his chest. “Try to get him to drink now, Rosie.” 

Rosie picks up the glass that Farrier had dropped into the water pail and swallows. Farrier has one hand around the front of Collins’ throat and the other helping open his mouth. Collins doesn’t seem like he wants or can protest any more. She gets down on her knees, tipping the glass slightly and the water moves painfully slow. However, it doesn’t come back up. She can see Farrier’s hand working diligently on Collins’ throat to get him to swallow. 

Collins sputters again after half the glass is empty and Rosie moves back quickly, knocking the pail of water over. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry.” She says, grabbing the towels hanging up and throwing them on the mess. 

“It’s alright,” Farrier breathes, because Collins’ is shivering. His fever seems to be breaking. Farrier turns the water off behind him and then pulls Collins closer to him. He rubs lightly at his back, feeling his skin cooling off. The water is up to their knees because Farrier is sitting in front of the drainage plug but he thinks that might be what is helping Collins. 

“What can I do now?” Rosie asks and Farrier making a soft noise when he realizes that there are tears in her eyes. 

“You have done great, dear. He’s better. My mates back at school did this a few times after a night of drinking. Not enough water.” Farrier says, cupping more water and letting it soak Collins’ hair to help bring down his temperature even more. 

“I didn’t know Mr. Collins did any drinking, sir.” Rosie whispers. Farrier tries not to laugh too hard as it causes Collins to bounce slightly against his chest. 

“I’m sure he does, but that’s not what this is. I haven’t seen him drink any water since we were put on alert.” Farrier says, his fingers making their way into Collins' blonde hair. He strokes at it absently, it’s as soft as he had imagined. 

“He didn’t take the food I packed for him either.” Rosie says, her eyes darting away from the physical contact between the two pilots. 

Farrier sighs, looking down at Collins who is beginning to have a bit more color to his features. He curls slightly against Farrier’s chest, pulling at his white shirt. “Of course, he didn’t. Do you think you can make him a bit of food? I think he’s coming around.” 

Rosie nods. “I’ll knock before I return.” 

With that, she’s gone. Farrier frowns for a second. Of course, she would knock. She always did. 

Why would she… His fingers stop stroking at Collins’ hair with a tired sigh. She must suspect his feelings for Collins. Well, she wouldn't be the first. 

Farrier stands up slowly, keeping his arms wrapped  tightly around Collins to pull him out of the bath. They are half way across the room when Farrier realizes that Collins underwear is soaking wet. He should probably get him a pair of dry ones but putting them on might cross a line. 

So they stand in the middle of the room for a few seconds before Farrier reaches down and pushes at the hem of Collin’s underwear. He bites harshly down on his lip to focus on that instead of the impossibly soft skin that surrounds Collins’ hips. His fingertips brush past wiry hair and Farrier nearly stumbles. Tasting blood, Farrier finally gets Collins to step out of his underwear with a bit of maneuvering and puts him in his bed. He covers him up snugly, not wanting him to catch a cold after the fever. 

Not wanting to get sick himself, Farrier makes a quick trip to his room down the hall and changes out of his own soaking wet clothes. He grabs the blanket from his own bed and is putting it over Collins when Rosie walks in a second after knocking. 

“I made him a sandwich and brought more water,” Rosie says. “Oh and a bit of chocolate.”

Farrier nods. “Thank you, Rosie. I’m sorry about all of this.” 

“Is he better?” She asks.

Farrier nods, looking at Collins laying quietly in the bed, no sign of distress on his handsome face. “Yes, I believe so.” 

“Then I think everything will be alright, right?” 

She hands the plate to Farrier before leaving the room. Farrier pulls a chair over to Collins’ bedside and shakes his shoulder slightly. 

“Collins, wake up. I need you to eat a bit for me.” 

“Leslie.” 

Farrier frowns slightly at the name. “Come on, Collins.” 

Collins frowns, reaching up to rub at his eyes. They blink slightly as he looks at Farrier holding out the plate to him. “I’m going to assume that there is a good reason why I am naked under here.” 

Farrier’s laugh is laced with bit of panic but he pushes the plate toward Collins, who sits up making sure to cover as much of his exposed body as he can. “There is and if you eat this, I will tell you about it.” 

Collins only shakes his head before taking the plate. His stomach growls audibly, nearly echoing off the walls as he looks at the food. “I can’t remember the last time I ate anything.” 

“Yeah, that’s why you are naked as well.” Farrier offers watching Collins devour the sandwich in a matter of minutes. He doesn’t fuss at all when Farrier hands him the glass of water to drink. 

“I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble,” Collins sighs, taking the bar of chocolate that Farrier is now offering him. 

“No, but I’d like to avoid a repeat if you’d please.” Farrier smiles. His eyes unable to leave the sight of Collins' exposed skin. His neck felt divine in his hands and the way the long expanse of it is looking right now makes his mouth all but water. 

But his eyes are pulled to another sight and this one is even better. Collins’ impossibly pink tongue is now licking at the chocolate that has melted onto his fingertips. Farrier has to look away to prevent making some sort of a scene. He expects Collins to call him on it. On the looks that Farrier gives him that last far too long. How often that he tries to touch him. How he clearly stripped him. But Collins never says anything. 

Farrier chances a glance and sees that he has settled back down into his bed. He gets out of his chair, picking up the plate that Collins had left in his lap. It was so unlike him. He was so meticulously clean and fussy about everything that he did. It made Farrier --

Collins warm fingers wrap into Farrier’s shirt. 

Opening his mouth, Farrier tries to explain what he was doing but any noise is swallowed down by Collins’ mouth. His lips are impossibly soft next to Farrier’s chapped ones. It makes Farrier feel like his bones are made of sand. 

“Collins,” He breathes, his voice cracking. Farrier threads his fingers into Collins' hair which causes him to let out the happiest sigh. A sound Farrier wasn’t even sure Collins was capable of. 

“Leslie. Call me, Leslie.”

With that, Leslie’s tongue slides into Farrier’s mouth and he can taste the chocolate still lingering there. It makes his knees buckle. The bed frame catches him as he tries not to completely collapse on Collins’ body. 

  
“Yes, whatever you want me to call you.” Farrier pants, his kiss intense as he pulls at Collins hair. “Col--Leslie, I’ve wanted this for so long. I want to --” 

Farrier pulls back because Collins’ head has gotten heavy in his hands. He’s sleeping peacefully now, warm to the touch but not feverish. 

“Fuck,” Farrier growls but his hand is soft on Collins’ hand as he untangles it from his shirt. He tucks it under the covers before plopping into the chair next to the bed. 

“Now what?” Farrier asks the sleeping man across from him. If Collins did know what they should do now, he doesn’t offer it. He continues sleeping peacefully. 


	4. I am the shadow that walks there.

They land at the same time on the runway. Their planes are far too close but the fact that they are both billowing thick black smoke keeps the commanding officers from saying anything. Farrier stares down at his Spitfire with a look of true remorse. She had been shot to pieces and he was lucky that they’d made it back to the airfield at all. The Air Force would more than likely scrap her since they had taken so much damage. The ping of guilt that he hadn’t been fast enough to keep her from harm bit harshly inside him. 

“Farrier!” Collins’ blond hair and panicked face emerges from the heavy smoke surrounding the plane. He pushes the canopy back and all but throws Farrier out of the plane. Farrier’s legs skid slightly on the wing before he lands on the tarmac below. Collins is next to him quickly, pulling at his arm and pushing him from behind. 

“What are you doing? It could have exploded,” Collins coughs, his eyes watery from the smoke in his lungs. 

“She wouldn’t do that to me,” Farrier says absently, looking back at the plane but Collins won’t let him settle. He keeps pushing at Farrier, keeps him walking. He seems desperate. 

“That plane doesn’t love you, you bloody idiot!” Collins yells, throwing his hands up in the air and away from Farrier’s jacket. “Forget it.” 

Farrier tears his eyes away from the plane to see Collins walking away. He calls after him. “Leslie, what’s wrong?” 

Collins turns on his heel with fire in his eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!”

Farrier instinctively takes a step back, caught off guard by the sudden burst of emotion from Collins who always kept his feelings locked down so tightly. But Farrier’s gaze catches that Collins has to squeeze his hands into fists because they are shaking so harshly.

“That was suppose to be a reconnaissance mission. Instead, it was a slaughter. We lost our commander, Addison, Gregory, and whoever that one kid was that wouldn’t stop screaming on our radio.” Collins all but spits.

“Robbie was screaming because he was burning,” Farrier explains and moves to touch Collins. Collins slaps his hand away. 

  
“I  **know** why he was screaming, David. Jesus Christ.” Collins groans, turning on his heel again. 

Farrier jogs slightly behind him, not enough to catch him but making sure Collins is in his sight. One of their commanding officers starts to say something to them but Farrier makes a motion behind Collins’ head to stay out of it. He doesn’t heed his warning.

“Where are you going, Flying Officer?” The man asks and Farrier feels like he should take cover somewhere. 

“Home.” Collins says grabbing a few of his personal items from his bunk in the Nissen Hut. 

“Scotland’s a long way from here, son.” 

Farrier is between them before Collins can open his mouth. “We are off duty now, sir. We are heading back to the house where we are stationed.” 

The officer looks at Farrier and then nods. He leaves before anything else can be said. Farrier turns to look at Collins who is now sitting on his bunk. 

“Leslie, I know you are upset but --” Farrier stops when Collins looks up at him. His eyes are red, raw, and tears are sliding down his cheeks. He finds himself unable to move or even speak at the sight. 

Collins wipes at his eyes harshly. “Don’t say anything.” 

Farrier couldn’t if he tried. He’s rooted to the spot, unable to decide on the best course of action. 

“I’ll never be able sleep without hearing his screams,” Collins breathes and then his face changes. He closes his eyes and takes three deep breaths. When he finally opens them again, he looks as if he has been the picture of calm for years. Farrier had seen him do this several times before. How Collins can bundle up all his emotions and then lock them away always left Farrier feeling impressed and concerned. 

Collins stands up, reaching to straighten his tie and brush off any dirt that might be on his uniform. Looking in a nearby mirror, he grabs his comb and brushes his hair back into place. Farrier watches him closely. 

“I’d like to take you somewhere,” Farrier finally says. Collins looks like he is going to resist for a few minutes but in the end he just nods. 

*~*~*~*

Once Collins had realized that Farrier was taking him somewhere to eat, he tried to protest again. He didn’t want food. He wanted to go home and stare at the ceiling and hope that everything that had happened today was a terrible nightmare. 

But Farrier claimed that he was hungry and it would be rude if Collins refused to eat anything there. Plus, there was the embarrassing fact that three weeks ago, Collins had to be carried back to their house because he hadn’t ate in several days. When he had finally regained consciousness, he thought that his cheeks would be red with embarrassment for the rest of this life. Farrier had seemed charmed by it all and kept telling Collins that it wasn’t a big deal. 

Collins, of course, still considers it one of his lowest moments so he eats and listens to Farrier talk. 

Only Farrier could be described as a man of few words and an absolute chatterbox at the same time. There were days were Farrier hardly said anything, only slightly grunted at Collins who now seemed to understand what each one meant much even if he pretended to be annoyed by it. 

But then there were times like this when he just talked. Collins thinks if Farrier was anyone else, he would hate it. He wouldn’t want to hear about the impossibly large mansion where Farrier grew up. He would roll his eyes at the thought of him being so obsessed with planes. Those were all rich men's’ histories and hobbies. Collins didn’t have anything like that. 

But Farrier also talked about how his father was killed in the Great War. How impressive he must have been because his mother stopped caring about everything else in her life after he was gone. Of course, he had plenty of servants to talk to but they could never give him the affection he desired. 

And he said it with such aloofness. He told Collins how he jumped off the roof of their stables in a desperate bid to get his mother's attention with a laugh and those all too common shrugs of his. Collins couldn’t think of ever telling him anything as personal as that with such a careless attitude. But Farrier could and continued to do so. 

Collins didn’t realize how much time had gone by until he caught himself yawning. 

“Too much? I have to say I’m impressed that you lasted this long before getting bored.” Farrier laughs. 

Collins shakes his head. “No, that’s not it at all. I’ve enjoyed listening to you talk.” 

“I’m glad someone can enjoy my childhood’s misery,” 

“No, no! I -”

Farrier laughs loudly, reaching his hand across the table to lay it on top of Collin’s. “I’m only joking.” 

Collins’ sighs. He scratches at the back of his neck and then pushes his shoulders back to feel the satisfying pop of his spine.

Farrier watches him with slightly too heavy eyes. “It’s a bit of a walk back to the house.” 

Collins doesn’t respond, his eyes are closed and he seems to be having trouble opening them again. 

Farrier squeezes lightly at Collins’ hand. “There ah...There’s some hotels nearby.” 

Collins’ nose wrinkles. “I can’t afford something like that.” 

Farrier feels like his throat has gone dry, he licks at the back of his teeth to try and get the words to come out. “I could get one for us.”

Collins looks down at where their hands are touching and then slowly pulls his hand out from under Farrier. 

“I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression but --” Collins starts but Farrier is already on damage control. He puts his hands up in a defensive stance before speaking. 

“No, I shouldn’t have presumed. I’m sorr--” 

“Honestly, Farrier. It is alright.” Collins breathes, happy that Farrier isn’t angry with him. 

“It’s only that when you kissed me--” 

“Excuse me?” Collins asks, his face draining into an unhealthy pale. 

Farrier frowns. “I assumed that you had remembered.” 

“I think….I’m missing something. What are you talking about?” 

“Well, when you fainted a few weeks ago.” Farrier starts and thankfully, despite the current tense situation, Collins still blushes that dashing shade of red. “After I had cooled you down, you told me that your first name was Leslie. Which I knew, of course. It was adorable that you --” 

“And the kiss….” Collins whispers. 

“It was after you told me your name. You kissed me and then went to sleep.” Farrier says, his eyes flickering over Collins’ face to see if he can read what he is feeling. 

“Thank you for the meal, _ sir _ .” Collins swallows, standing up. Farrier looks at him absolutely shocked at the sudden change in familiarity. He had thought that Collins had remembered and was taking it slow. He figured that’s why he had been calling him David because they were dating now. Apparently, he was completely wrong. 

“Why did you--” Farrier starts to asks but Collins is already halfway out the door. Farrier throws down several notes before running after him. 

He catches Collins’ arm just outside the door and squeezes the bicep tightly when Collins tries to struggle out of it. “I think we should talk about this.” 

Collins tries to pull away but Farrier’s strength holds him in place. “I’d rather not.”

“Why not?” Farrier demands, grabbing Collins’ chin so he will look at him. 

Collins stares at him defiantly. 

Farrier takes up the space between them with one step and presses his lips against Collins. Collins jerks like he’s been shot, but Farrier holds them there with his fingers digging into the skin of his chin and jaw. 

He’s not going to just let him walk away from this. Not yet. Not until Collins can remember what a kiss between them felt like. 

Farrier’s grip loosens as he deepens the kiss. Collins seems frozen to the spot until he finally lets out a very heavy sigh and presses back into the kiss.    

Letting go of his face, Farrier pulls Collins impossibly close as his tongue slips inside his mouth. The moan that escapes between Collins’ lips and into Farrier mouth makes his knees feel like jam. 

Before Farrier can fully appreciate just how good this feels, Collins pulls back. “No, we can’t--” 

Farrier opens his mouth to protest, demand that ‘ _ yes, they can _ ’. But Collins only smiles. 

“I meant, here. We can’t do this here in front of this restaurant.” Collins motions so that it will click in Farrier’s head.

“Right, yes...You are right.”

Collins looks at Farrier for a moment before he lowers his gaze. “Is the hotel offer still open?” 

“Yes, god, yes.”

*~*~*~*

Getting checked into the hotel wasn’t as awkward as Collins feared it was going to be. In fact, the clerk didn’t even bat an eye. It had made Collins feel a little better about suddenly dragging up the courage to ask Farrier if the offer still stood. It felt like the bravest thing he had ever done. But now as Farrier impossibly soft mouth makes its way up his neck as the elevator takes its precious time to get to their floor, Collins is beginning to feel a little light headed. 

“Leslie,” Farrier half purrs, half laughs when Collins jumps at the ding from the elevator arriving on their floor. 

“This isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence for me.” Collins says, trying not to stare too deeply in Farrier’s eyes. A man could get lost in there and he needed to keep his wits about him. 

Farrier’s fingers link into Collins’. He tugs at them lightly as he starts walking toward their hotel room. The sound of someone’s voice causes their hands to drop away from each other instantly. A couple is walking down the hall toward them, holding each other closely. Collins watches how open they are with a hunger that he didn’t realize he had. 

“Afternoon,” Farrier says. The woman smiles brightly at him, charmed. The man only nods. 

Collins doesn’t say anything. Only stands slightly behind Farrier. Once the couple passes, Farrier is quick to unlock their room. He gestures for Collins to go in first. 

The room is nice. Clean and bright. It makes Collins feel slightly better, like this isn’t some dirty secret. 

Farrier’s hands wrap around Collins’ waist, settling his fingers over his belt and with his thumbs just inside the hem of Collins’ pants. He lets his forehead come to rest on the back of Collins’ head before he lets out a deep sigh. 

“Do you know how amazing you smell?” Farrier asks. Collins struggles out of his grip, unable to deal with that line of questioning. 

Farrier only watches him, cautious not to approach like Collins is some sort of panicked animal. He’s been with boys like this before, but the skittish ones always moan the loudest. He was praying that was going to hold true with Collins as well. 

“I apologize for not telling you about the kiss,” Farrier says into the quiet space between them. He peels off his jacket, placing it on the large sofa in the room. 

Collins can’t seem to catch his breath. The feeling makes him want to pace or run out of the room. Instead, he just bites lightly at his bottom lip. 

Farrier takes a seat, reaching down to untie his boots. “I thought you had remembered because you have been calling me David and not seeming as ….uptight as usual.”

Collins watches Farrier’s boots come off, followed by his belt. He seems to be undressing at an agonizingly slow pace. “I thought it was only proper given what you did for me.” 

Farrier smirks slightly at that. He pulls his shirt over his head and then walks over to Collins who doesn’t look as if he’s going to make a run for it anymore. His fingers nimbly unbutton Collins’ uniform, before easing it off of his shoulders. He throws it onto the floor and tries not to grin when Collins makes a noise of discomfort. His eyes are transfixed on the wrinkles slowly making themselves known in the fabric. 

“Leslie, you make me want to unravel you. You know that, right?” Farrier asks, his hand pressing him toward the bed, fingers fully expended across Collins’ abs. 

Collins’ eyes widen slightly but he doesn’t say anything. He just lets Farrier take control for once. He lets his guard fall down the second his legs connect with the bed. 

Farrier settles next to Collins’ feet, untying his boots with a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted you from the second I saw you. You are so goddamn beautiful.” 

Collins entire face feels like it is a bright red. _Who talks like that?_ He grabs the pillow and pulls it over his face to preserve whatever dignity he has left. He can hear Farrier laughing as the loud thud of his boots hitting the floor echo throughout the room. 

He feels Farrier shift in the bed, getting closer to him. The pillow over his head lifts up slightly with Farrier bending down to look at him. 

“I didn’t expect you to be so shy,” Farrier smiles, his hand coming to cup Collins’ jaw. His hand is so warm and comforting that Collins’ eyes slide shut with a heavy sigh. 

Farrier leans down into a kiss. Collins doesn’t hesitate this time, his hands come to hold onto Farrier’s broad shoulders as they kiss. 

“Am I going to be doing all the talking?” Farrier asks, pulling back to stare into Collins’ eyes. 

“Why should now be any different?” Collins counters and Farrier grins brightly down at him. He leans into another kiss and Collins can’t quite catch his breath.

The kiss becomes more desperate as Farrier’s hands run down Collins’ body, pushing up his shirt to touch the hot skin underneath. Much to Farrier’s intense satisfaction, Collins does begin to vocalize more, but the noises are still soft and quiet. 

His fingers run through Collins’ hair as he kisses across his face before taking his ear into his mouth. Collins yelps slightly, but doesn’t push Farrier off. 

“Oh,” It’s the first thing that Collins has said in a while and Farrier tries to swallow the word down as he kisses him. Farrier squeezes lightly where his hand is located between Collins’ thigh and cock. “Farrier, I--”

“Yes, Leslie?” Farrier whispers, his lips not even moving away from Collins mouth to ask the question. 

“I--” Collins’ voice is as shaky as his hands that are grasping at Farrier’s hair and bicep. He can feel himself getting hard and he thinks that he wants this to end as quickly as possible because he might not be able to survive the impossibly slow pace that Farrier has set. 

“Use your words,” Farrier says, moving again. He kisses his way down Collins’ chest before letting his tongue dip into Collins’ belly button. 

Collins is absolutely scandalized by the action, but his back arches tightly at the feel of something wet, warm, and firm slipping into a part of him. He feels ridiculous for it. 

“I've never--” Collins begins as Farrier undoes his pants, keeping a hand pressed against his crotch. It makes Collins’ lungs constrict in a desperate need for oxygen. 

Farrier only smiles. “I can’t believe no one has sucked your cock before. That’s a crying shame.” 

Collins makes a strangled noise because he hadn’t realized that’s what Farrier was going to do. He can’t do that. He just _ can’t _ . They haven’t showered. His cock might taste terrible. Collins didn’t even know if cocks can taste good. 

“Oh god,” the words are practically ripped out of Collins throat as Farrier’s lips sink down Collins’ cock. His mind feels like a fire has burned through it, leaving it blank and smoldering in it’s wake. 

Farrier is far too skilled at it. His mouth moves up and down and takes Collins so deep that he must be getting choked. Does he not have a gag reflex? And his hands _ , christ those hands. _ They are on the move constantly, stroking and cupping Collins’ cock. He feels as if he is going to come apart at the seams. 

No, he’s just going to come. Something warm and tingling is pooling inside him and he can’t stop moaning. He knows he’s being loud and he hates himself for it but it feels so good. Impossibly good. 

“It’s okay, Leslie,” Farrier whispers. Collins barely catches it. However, Farrier sucks hard at the head of his cock and he loses it. 

He comes hard, his toes curling and fingers pulling harshly at Farrier’s hair. Trying to pull him back, away from his cock. He can’t take anymore. 

“I didn’t think you could get more gorgeous,” Farrier’s voice sounds strained and despite himself, Collins looks down. He regrets it instantly. 

Farrier’s eyes are half lidded as he tries to regain his breath. His shoulders and chest are shaking from something that Collins can’t exactly figure out. But the fact that his come is dripping out of Farrier’s mouth makes him bite down harshly on the bottom lip to stifle his moan. 

“Who are you afraid of, Leslie?” Farrier asks, grabbing a corner of the bed sheet to wipe his mouth. 

  
Collins keens quietly, his body feels like all his nerve endings have been exposed. “I’m not afraid of anyone. Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Then let me hear you, yeah?” Farrier says, moving up to lay next to Collins. His eyes look far too endearing for Collins’ comfort. 

“I think we will both survive if I keep my groaning to a minimum,” Collins says rolling his eyes before turning his back to Farrier. 

Of course, this doesn’t deter the head-strong pilot. He snuggles up behind Collins, wrapping his arm around his side as he buries his nose in the back of Collins’ neck. “You smell so nice.” 

“Honestly, David, you are absolutely--” Collins pushes back against Farrier to tell him off but stops when he feels his hard cock against his ass. 

“What was that?” Farrier asks and Collins can hear the grin in his voice. 

“Are you going to…” Collins asks, his voice pitched lower. Moving his hand onto Farrier’s hip, Collins chews at his lip as he feels the heat pooling into him. 

“Would you like me to?” Farrier asks. Collins sighs loudly. 

“No, I’d like you to suffer for the rest of the night.” Collins eyes roll hard as he says it but Farrier seems amused by it. 

Farrier only kisses at the back of Collins’ neck before making a very content sigh as he wraps his hand around his own cock. 

Collins closes his eyes, focusing on the way he can feel Farrier’s muscles working behind him. He’s pressed so impossibly close. His gasps and pants falling on Collins’ shoulder and neck as his cock is stroked against his ass. It feels intoxicating. 

“Fuck,” Farrier groans, his hips shuttering into Collins’ body as he finally comes. 

They both lay there quietly until Farrier, of course it’s Farrier, starts talking. 

“I must say, Leslie. I’m surprised that your other lovers didn’t treat you better.”

Collins yawns, turning around to look at Farrier. He hesitates for a few moments before finally tucking himself under Farrier’s chin. His body pressed close and secure against him. Farrier wraps his arms around him, pulling him even closer. 

“What are you talking?” Collins mumbles against Farrier’s throat, his fingers tracing at the muscles flexing in Farrier’s arm. 

“You act like no one has touched you before. They must have been pretty bad lovers.” Farrier muses, unable to believe how happy and content he is with Collins in his arms. 

“David, you are so strange sometimes.” Collins breathes, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve never been with anyone before obviously.” 

Farrier stiffens, his hand in mid-stroke on Collins’s ass. “I’m sorry, darling. I seem to have missed what you said.” 

Collins tilts his head up slightly to lay a kiss on Farrier’s pulse before closing his eyes. This is why he never shares anything about himself. “I’ve never been with anyone like you before.” 

Farrier frowns slightly, leaning down to kiss Collins’ forehead but he doesn't push. “I am one of a kind.” 

“You are certainly something.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“I said she is dating someone else now,” Haskins says making Farrier snap out of his memories. The young pilot looks heartbroken as he sits next to him. The letter in his lap is impossibly short. 

“Well, there are others. You will be a hero when we return and you will have to fight the girls off you.” Farrier offers, but his heart isn’t completely in it. 

Haskins doesn’t seem to notice though. He seems to be in his own world. “She said she’d wait for me.” 

Farrier shrugs. “Well…"

Haskins starts walking toward the fence as Farrier tries to half-halfheartedly find the words to cheer him up. His fingers grip the metal with a determined stance. 

“Haskins?” Farrier cautions. His full attention is on the boy now. 

It happens far too quickly. A snap decision. Haskins starts climbing up the fence just as Farrier yells out for him to stop. 

If he reaches the top and jumps down, he’s dead. They will shoot him the moment his feet land on ground. 

“Haskins, don’t be an idiot!” Farrier yells, running over toward the fence and grabbing at his ankle. The only part of the young pilot he can get. 

“If she left me, there’s no point in living.” Haskins yells down, struggling to climb higher. "Let go of me!"

“There are plenty of reasons to live, Haskins.” Farrier calls up, trying his hardest to jerk the boy off the fence. If he falls and breaks his leg or arm, it would be better than him dead on the other side of this goddamn fence. 

“I love her, Farrier. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love her. I can’t live without her. You wouldn’t understand!” 

Farrier’s grip loosens just a little as the words hit him. He looks up at Haskins trying his hardest to get free. He tugs with all his might and then they both come crashing down onto the ‘safe’ side of the fence. 

Haskins is up and ready to fight the second Farrier’s back on his feet. He is about to yell or throw a punch when Farrier shakes his head and puts up his hand. 

“No, I understand completely. That’s why I can’t let you get yourself killed.” Farrier says, slightly out of breath from hitting the ground so hard. 

Haskins only lets out a loud yell before stomping off to another part of the camp. The crowd that had gathered splits, one group following Haskins to make sure he doesn’t try it again. The other stays with Farrier patting him on the back and telling him that he just saved the kid’s life. He brushes it off with an easy shrug but when he’s alone again, he looks up at the guard tower that would have ended Haskins' life. 

He tries not to think about what he would do if Collins ever said they were over. He definitely tries not to think of a time when no one would be around to stop him from going over that fence if he ever got that letter. 

Farrier shakes his head, rolls his shoulders, and tries to carry on with his day. But he finds himself rereading Collins’ letters late into the night to give himself some comfort. 

**Author's Note:**

> It is my last semester of graduate school so the posting of this may not be very consistent but it will be my constant companion as I finish this degree. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.


End file.
